A Marriage at Christmastime
by Sewnata
Summary: It's Christmas at Blandings Castle, and Aunt Constance wants to take a load off and be happy for once. But when her imbecilic nephew Freddie comes home with a few broken ribs, her Christmas spirit is stretched to the max! Please review, all you P. G. Wodehouse fans!
1. Chapter 1

A Marriage at Christmastime

By: Emma Greening

A Blandings Castle Story

Disclaimer: I do not own anybody from Blandings Castle. Freddie, Aunt Connie, Galahad, Beach and Lord Emsworth are all creations of the wonderful P.G. Wodehouse. I do own the preacher and Doctor Gerald Bingely.

Chapter 1

Of Snow and Accidents

The sun beamed down on Blandings Castle, touching the blanket of thick, white snow with its warmth. But the air was far from warm. Cold, blasts of wind constantly chucked wispy clouds across the sky, without a prayer of starting another snow-storm.

The loud sound of Christmas bells ringing in Blandings Market were loud enough to wake up the deepest sleeper. Carols, suddenly erupted from the village, as people started stepping out of their cottages to finish their daily tasks and start celebrating. The entire village was in ecstasy.

But it wasn't Christmas yet. It was only Christmas Eve, the most enchanting day of the year. When a feeling of anticipation fills the air, and you start shaking your presents that lie under the Christmas tree.

Aunt Constance stood at her window, smiling for the first time genuinely in a year, running a brush through her hair, and trying to appear presentable. She had things to do this Christmas Eve. As she looked out at the festive village covered in decorations, she felt a warm feeling towards her fellow man, and was even willing to allow her younger brother Galahad to join them for Christmas.

But there was one thing that worried her. Where was her nephew Frederick? They had received no communications from him, saying that he couldn't come. There had been absolutely nothing! And now that it was Christmas Eve she had started to worry. Freddie rarely arrived late for Christmas, but when he did, his father wouldn't start without him.

She bit her lip, and pulled back the curtains, watching the country-road for any sign of her nephew's burgundy two-seater. But, nothing. Only a black, official looking car met her gaze, and that didn't mean much. It was probably just Galahad asking for a lift.

After dressing, she plunged down the stairs to breakfast, barely speaking to Beach as she passed but to give him a look, and then start chastising her brother for the way he ate eggs and bacon. "You must be more civilized, Clarence!" She hissed.

"Why my dear Connie! I'm am surprised at you! It is the Christmas season, what has made you so unhappy?" He asked, giving her his utmost attention.

"You're son, has made me unhappy. When he communicated with us last, he said he would be arriving yesterday. But he hasn't, and now I'm having premonitions of evil." She sputtered, looking up as the bell rang loudly. "Beach! Attend to that will you?!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, gnawing hungrily at a buttered scone.

Lord Emsworth laughed heartily. "I-I'm sorry Connie, but I thought you said that Freddie wouldn't be arriving for the festivities!" He chuckled to himself, and finished his breakfast, laughing at the absurdity of what his sister had just said.

Beach stumbled into the room. "A Mr. Galahad, and Master Frederick."

Connie stood up, and gave Beach a piercing glance. "Well, why don't they come in? I'm sure that with Galahad's energy, he would be in this room in two shakes."

"I am afraid, milady that Master Galahad's attentions are directed elsewhere." He winked at Connie, as if she would understand what he meant.

She drew back with a gasp, but retained her old manner. "Very well. I will see him myself. And put his attentions on the relatives he hasn't wished a Merry Christmas to. "She hurried from the room, to find Galahad in a vacant chair and Freddie, sprawled half in his lap and half on the floor.

"Galahad, what is the meaning of this?" Connie knelt down beside Freddie's prostrate form and felt his forehead. "What did you do this time? You know that Clarence won't start the festivities without his son here, and if Freddie were missed as he most undoubtedly will be…"

"Hush, hush old prune." Galahad assured. "All shall be well. I just seem to have run into a bit of a predicament with my nephew. He has some broken ribs you see."

Connie stared. "So, that's your explanation? He looks as white as a sheet! Let's carry him up to bed, and maybe the doctor can pop in and set everything straight." She didn't have time to chastise. It was time for action.

Galahad popped his monocle into his pocket, and picked up Freddie by the feet. "Here, you can take the shoulders, if you can." He offered, his eyes twinkling.

But his sister had lost her own twinkle. She lugged Freddie up the stairs as if she were carrying a corpse, and laid him in bed as if she were putting him in a casket. The only thing missing, was the funeral dirge.

She collapsed into a chair, and stared out the window at the beauty of the Christmas season. But now, the clouds had returned, and she was sure there would be another snow storm. She put her head in her hands and shook her head. "Alright Galahad, tell me the truth. What happened?"

Her brother jingled the coins in his pocket nervously. "I got him into a collision, obviously! My friend Georgie Horner was going on and on about racing on that little track just outside Shropshire. So we thought we'd give it a go. How was I to know that Georgie played dirty?" He asked, running his fingers through his hair, and giving the victim a troubled glance.

"That is beside the point! You aided in your nephew's injury, and now Christmas will be ruined! Clarence won't take kindly to this, and I most certainly cannot hide it. The festivities have to go on, with or without Freddie!" She glared at her younger brother and sighed. All the hopes and dreams of happiness that she had had were gone. Blotted out, with a single foolish decision to race. " I will tell Beech to call Doctor Bingley, then inform Clarence about what has happened. I don't want you to leave Freddie's bedside for a minute! Send Beech to tell me when Freddie wakes up. I want to be by his side too." She stalked from the room, her eyes narrowed. Her Christmas spirit had just been lost.

It was easy to chastise Galahad, but leaking the news to her brother Clarence was not as easy. He sat in his study, busy dictating a letter to his secretary, Hugo Carmody. He only raised his head when she entered. "Ah, Connie, Merry Christm-…" The words were frozen on his lips as he noticed that she still wore the old frown. "What is the matter, Connie? For goodness sakes, you can't be going about ruining the Christmas spirit!"

_I most certainly can! And I will ruin yours. _She thought, but kept up the bitter look. "Your son Frederick, has arrived in an unusual fashion with your younger brother." She waited to see if her words evoked any curiosity. It appeared they hadn't so she continued. "Frederick was in an automobile accident just out of Shropshire. He has broken ribs, and we don't know what else. If you want to see him, he is upstairs in his bedroom. If you want to see Galahad, he is also upstairs, playing the penitent." Connie turned away, and rushed to her bedroom.

Lord Emsworth remained in the hallway. His eyes wide, his lips moving without sound. He turned to Beach, who had just shimmered from the kitchen. "Is what she says true, Beech?" He asked, haltingly.

Beach nodded his head gravely. "I am afraid so, my Lord. I saw Master Frederick myself, and I believe that her ladyship has made an astute medical observation." He coughed. "Doctor Bingley will be arriving shortly, sir."

Lord Emsworth nodded, and wandered up the stairs in a daze. "This is a tragedy!" He murmured. "An abject tragedy!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

An Uncle's Remorse

Galahad gazed into this nephew's pale face, as the bits of sun that biffed through the clouds crossed it. He ran a hand over his own face, and sighed. It certainly hadn't been his fault that Georgie had played dirty. After all, they were only acquaintances. What Galahad wondered was how Freddie had raised the pluck to be able to race with Georgie without flinching.

A groaning sound raised itself from the covers, as Freddie's eyes fluttered open. He pursed his lips, and un-pursed them when he saw his uncle leaning over him. "W-ell call me whoopsy, uncle Gally!" He exclaimed, turning pink with pleasure. "I was wondering if you'd be alright, flagging us down." Freddie gave him a sheepish smile. He ran a hand across a few scrapes on his forehead and winced. "I hope that's the worst of it."

Galahad grimaced. "I'm afraid not old man. The doctor's coming to give you a checkup. And I wouldn't move much if I were you. We think you have a few broken ribs you see." Galahad tried his best to sound as cheerful as he could. He couldn't help thinking that Freddie would probably have been lying on the floor, writhing in pain if he hadn't been there.

Freddie blanched. He glanced down at the torn bits and pieces of his green vest and stared at the splashes of mud all along the knees of his tan trousers. "Well this is a sticky wicket! I don't see how wearing a vest helps with improving my condition. And as for these trousers…" He paused, and winced painfully. He had to admit that moving wasn't the best option. "They're going to need a good sudsing." He finished, giving his uncle a desperate glance.

"Care for a small one?" Galahad replied, eyeing Freddie hopefully. He needed to escape, so that he could tell Connie that her nephew was alive and well. In most respects that is. He looked up, as his brother Clarence entered the room. "Ah, Clarence! Come to the sick room to visit the invalid have you?" He asked cheerfully, eagerly giving up his seat for his brother.

Lord Emsworth continued to mutter at the carpet, only nodding at his brother in slight recognition. "Did you actually mention giving Freddie a small one?" He asked suspiciously. He glanced over at his son, and fondly ruffled his hair. This picture reminded him so well of the many times his wife had lain in bed, ill. She was never a strong woman, but she had escaped the pain of a few broken ribs. He had always thought that Freddie looked more like his Dame than his Sire. And now that he was a captive in bed, drowning in pillows, it proved to be more and more the case.

"I _could _stomach one." Freddie confessed, blushing. "Just a bit of stiffener. It would do some good I think, and…"

His father held up a hand. "Well then my boy, name your poison? Port perhaps?" He asked, giving his son a paternal glance. He turned to give Galahad a stern look. He couldn't believe his own brother's carelessness with human life. Especially his own nephew's. He took his son's order, but didn't care to ask Galahad for his. He was starting to disapprove more and more of the man.

Then Doctor Gerald Bingley entered the room, black bag under his arm, puffing. The Christmas season was usually a busy season for doctors, but he hadn't expected to be brought to patch up some broken ribs. Still, he wasn't surprised. Mr. Threepwood was known for his injudicious actions. But to his surprise, he was able to attend to his patient, without much of the troublesomeness that he often came in contact with. He was even invited to drink a glass of port once he was finished.

But he was disapproving of the young man's choice of dress. A vest, sleeve garters and a soft bosomed shirt didn't seem to him to be the best of choices, especially when you are expecting a doctor to call, and set everything right. Something softer, and easier to remove, would have been a better choice. But, fashion brings pain, as he had always heard his sister Rosemary reply to his wonderings as to whether she could stand some of her own clothing choices. Still, he had to be settle for Mr. Threepwood's explanations. It almost seemed as if he were being left to fend for himself completely.

Freddie stared up at the three men that leaned over him. He bit his bottom lip, as Dr. Bingley tightened the bandages and let out a small gasp. In all those years of living dangerously, especially with the fact that he encountered men who could very well implant a phonograph into him (and he knew they could do it, too) didn't seem to compare to this. But this was different. He had been being silly, and reckless for no reason that he could see, but to amuse himself. And why should he be worrying about that at every second of the day? He shook his head, but tried to remain cheerful as his father proposed a toast.

"To Frederick's quick healing, and to the Christmas season!" Lord Emsworth proposed, holding his glass up high, and gazing thirstily at the burgundy port. They answered is toast with calls of "Here, here!" and "Cheers!" He smiled at the men who sat, stood, or lounged around him. Even with this tragedy, there was no reason to be gloomy at Christmas. And now, he was even willing to forgive Galahad for his carelessness.

Galahad, however was thinking differently. He hated the fact that people were blaming him for Freddie's infirmity. But it couldn't be helped. He almost wanted to ask forgiveness, but at the same time, he was too proud to do so. If only he could make it up some other way. Perhaps, he could bring in Miss Pauline Petite, one of Freddie's sweet-hearts. He didn't know. But what he did know, was that his nephew needed cheering up, and if anyone was going to do it, it should be the accused.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Christmas Eve

That evening, dis-spite Lord Emsworth's and Galahad's attempts at making conversation, the entire household had fallen into a melancholy hush. And now, Galahad's well-known story of the Prawns seemed less and less comedic. Only Clarence laughed at them now.

Aunt Connie raised herself from where she had been slouching, barely touching her comestibles. She gave Galahad an unkind glare, "I shall be going to my room, all those who wish to know." She announced. She swept up the stairs angrily, and made her way down the hall as brusquely as she could. Without thinking, she barged through Freddie's door. "Frederick, I wish to speak to you."

Freddie barely raised his head from where he had buried it into the pillows, happily dreaming of Miss Niagara Donaldson, McAllister's niece. He gave his aunt a look that would have curdled milk, and swiped back the flip of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "Alright, aunt C, what dost her highness wish of her humble slave." He bowed his head, more in jest than in seriousness.

She glared daggers at him, and held out a bowl of clear, warm liquid. "The cook sent this. I suppose it is one of her broths."

Freddie shook his head, and balanced the bowl on his leg, lapping up the liquid in the spoon. He made a face. "Ugh, not enough spices for me." He laid the bowl resolutely down on the side table, and looked at his pales features in the mirror. "You know, I could really do with a bit of a pick-me up this Christmas, what do you say to a steady engagement, Aunt C?"

Aunt Connie stared at him, her lips parted in surprise. She raised a disapproving eyebrow, and cringed. "What un-modest penny-less girl have you sheltered beneath your wings this time?" She crossed her arms.

Freddie goggled like a fish. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, before biting his lower lip. "I'm afraid, I need to keep that one under my chapeau." He gave a queer smile, and leaned back easily, trying to hide the look of pain that coursed through him.

Aunt Connie paused, lifted the left-over bowl of broth to her lips, and drank deeply. A smile played on her lips.

"It doesn't matter." She replied, still smiling. A look of excitement crossed over her face. "I have two Christmas presents for you that should keep you out of trouble for quite a spell."

Freddie colored. His eyes brightened at the mystery. What could his aunt possibly give him that would keep him out of the Pink Pussy? She made it sound, dashed important, and it almost sounded like a responsibility. "What sort of presents? And what sort of responsibilities are imminent with these presents?"

She gave him a knowing glance, but didn't reply until there was a substantial pause. "Now that is one thing that I need to keep under my chapeau."

Freddie grimaced angrily. "Oh, come on Aunt C. Just one hint? Please, a teeny one! The Guv-ner would approve, I'm sure." He pleaded, drawing his face into a pleading-puppy look.

Aunt Connie shook her head. "No, Frederick. You might as well know, as if you didn't know already that you have to wait for Christmas morning to open your presents. I have always wondered how Clarence could ever stand to give you a Christmas Eve gift. But now I'm putting my foot down, and I don't care what you think." She said resolutely. She pursed her lips into a thin line, hiding her amusement.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A telegram, a package and a Love letter

In the middle of the night, Aunt Connie woke up. She sighed, and listened to what seemed to be a certain solid silence, but was really extremely fragile. And indeed, it could not go on, unbroken.

A screaming sound filled the hallways, a sound that she could hardly mistake. She rose quickly from bed, and tore the door open, to find Galahad, resplendent in slippers and dressing gown, running in circles in the hall. "Galahad! What is the meaning of this?" She hissed.

At the sound of her voice, Galahad stopped running. His face was white. "Where in the name of sense is that screaming sound coming from?"

Aunt Connie sighed at her brother's imbecility and made her way towards Freddie's bedroom. "I have no doubt that he is the cause of all this." She murmured, turning the brass knob and peering into the badly lit space.

As she had surmised, the awful noise had been coming from her nephew's lips. He lay on the carpet, a letter crushed to his chest, staring at the ceiling in ecstasy. Indeed, he was so occupied, that he didn't noticed when his aunt and uncle entered the room. He barely turned his head as he muttered, "It's all finished! And now, I shall no longer darken these hallowed doors. Or is it halls?" The question seemed to perplex him, but he was too happy to be ashamed.

"Frederick, what are you doing on the floor at this time of night?" Aunt Connie asked loudly in order to gain his attention. It seemed to her rather silly that her nephew be in such a sunny disposition at one o'clock in the morning.

Freddie shrugged. "Beach brought in a stray letter he had omitted to give me. And I must say, it has lifted the old spirits! I will tell you about its contents in the morning. Consider it another Christmas present, Aunt C." He winked at her, but frowned as he tried to raise himself from the floor. "I'm afraid, leaping about wasn't the best choice, but other than that, everything is oojah-come-spiff."

Aunt shook her head, and raised both eyebrows disapprovingly. "Frederick, if this letter is about your engagement, I wish to know all. You see, my presents to you can be affected by your engagement, and I wish to know you're settlements before you receive these precious gifts." Aunt Connie counseled, turning a little pink.

Freddie nodded. "Well, I'll tell you. It is my intention to marry Miss Niagara Donaldson, biff down to some exotic honeymoon resort (Martinique for instance) and begin a small family. I will then begin my responsibilities of being on the board for her father's business, and who knows, I might become the owner, when the old boy expires." He glanced at his aunt hopefully and continued. "I have already informed McAllister of my intentions, and he has not put up any objection, yet. But dash it all, she's a good woman, with a good background. At least she is a woman for whom I have affection."

Aunt Connie seemed to consider, then reached out to help him up. "I will consider you're proposition, Frederick. She is a woman I approve of, and for once you have not put up a struggle over these marital issues. But first, I will give you your presents. I hope, your betrothed will approve of them." She finished, watching as her nephew, clad in a scarlet, satin dressing gown settled himself beneath the covers, not without a little help from Galahad.

"Oh, she should approve, as long as your present isn't a counter engagement to another woman." Freddie joked, his eyes lighting up in anticipation. He was positively glowing.

Galahad interrupted with his congratulations. "I have never met this Miss Donaldson, but I hope that you will be sincerely happy, and that she will be the best mother to your children. I cannot wait to meet the woman!" He assured, his eyes lighting up as Freddie turned to give him a benevolent smile.

"When you meet her, uncle Gally, you will think her an absolute goddess, and I do mean it! There are not enough words to describe this lovely lady who has entered my life. I have only wondered at her uncle's perpetually calling me "the bairn faced loon" but all in all, I love the woman and her family! Even the thought of matrimony to her, makes my heart soft and affectionate towards McAllister himself!" He leaned back, placed his hands behind his head and placed his legs atop the pillows at his feet.

Aunt Constance sighed impatiently. "Well, that's all fine and dandy, but I think Galahad, we should leave the young bride-groom to dreaming of his bride-to-be (as I am sure he was doing previously). They do say that the best road to healing, especially in sickness, is through sleep. Besides, we need to break the news to Clarence." She reminded hopefully. Her nephew looked tired, and she didn't wish to stay awake herself any longer.

Outside the bedroom door, Beach lurked with a small piece of paper and a parcel wrapped in gunny-sack. "These are for you, your ladyship. A Mr. Galloway dropped them off." He handed them to Aunt Connie, and shimmered off.

Galahad reached for the parcel, and glanced at the address. "This isn't for you, my dear. This is for Freddie!" He glanced at his sister curiously. "You aren't snooping on your own nephew, are you?"

His sister colored. "Of course not! I would never dream of doing such a thing! But you do know how irresponsible Frederick is, and I don't want him keeping secrets. It's dangerous you see." She finished, tearing the parcel from his hands and ripping it open, gasping at its contents. "A wedding band? A veil? Freddie must be serious about this woman, if she has sent these things to him for his approval!" She carefully folded the contents back into the bag, and then began examining the telegram. "I suppose this explains the parcel." She murmured, tearing it open. Its contents were as follow:

Dear Freddie,

I wanted to send you these things for your approval. I cannot wait until we meet again, although I fear I may be some time in planning the wedding. Which month would you approve of?

Love,

You're Angel,

Niagara

Aunt Connie placed the letter resolutely in its envelope, and winced. There had been a time when she had been used to such soppiness, but she could never quite understand it now. In fact, she rather disapproved of it. "Well, Galahad let us just thank heaven that everything is going according to plan. I'm glad that Freddie has finally taken some steps in the way of matrimony. Let's just hope that we can get him to the altar before he changes his mind."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Christmas Day and the Mysterious Presents

The next morning dawned bright and snowy. The snowflakes floated down on the ground, covering it until there was a thick blanket.

Aunt Connie, opened her eyes wearily, and rubbed at her forehead, a small smile stamped onto her lips. And then she remembered. She groaned as she rolled out of bed. She raised an eyebrow, when she saw Lord Emsworth outside her door. "Well, Clarence? What warrants this sudden appearance on my doorstep?" She asked impatiently.

Lord Emsworth shook his head, and stared blankly at his sister. "I came to see if you were ready to come down, my dear."

She shook her head. "Clarence, you are incorrigible! If I were not in such a Christmas spirit, I would most undoubtedly chastise. But not this morning. I have things to say to you, Clarence that you may be glad to hear." She tugged at his shirt collar, and pulled him into the room, shutting the door eagerly behind him. "Your son, Frederick is engaged." She announced impressively.

Clarence only goggled. "What? I thought you said that Freddie has just become engaged? I mean, what woman could possibly capture his interests in such a way that he would even consider matrimony? It's unthinkable, Connie!" He said, snorting derisively at what he thought was only a below stairs rumor.

"No, Clarence it is the truth. Freddie has just informed me that he intends to marry Miss Niagara Donaldson. He has actually already made arrangements for this to occur, and has even mentioned nurturing the Emsworth generations with children! Some of us," And she gave Lord Emsworth a meaningful glance. "Wish Freddie to marry women of a lower standing, but Miss Donaldson is charming, and can aid the family finances. She is a gold mine, and as far as can be seen, Frederick is hopelessly in love with her. It is just keeping this love alive enough to get it to the altar that worries me."

Her brother nodded. "Yes, that is as Freddie would say, a sticky wicket. Frederick has had many hapless affairs of the heart, and if some pretty young thing, much more accomplished than Miss Donaldson were to stray into his path…" He paused, his brow wrinkled.

"That is why this episode of the broken ribs is so providential!" Connie interrupted. "Frederick can go nowhere with such an infirmity! He is totally confined to the Castle, and Market Blandings! I would never encourage any further exploration!" She hummed a few bars of Silent Night, and opened the door, dancing in the halls with a benevolent smile playing on her lips.

Galahad appeared in his doorway, looking pale and sleepy-eyed. "These mysterious presents?" He called out to Connie as he stumbled in her direction. "Do you think they will really do young Freddie good? After all, Connie, he seems to have become a reformed man! He said himself he was going to marry a woman of goodly estate, what more do you want?"

Connie only shook her head. "Galahad, everything is under control. Freddie will soon find himself with a small family of his own to commandeer, and a responsibility that he has never had on his shoulders. " She replied tartly, turning as she spoke, in the direction of Freddie's room.

Inside, Freddie lay wrapped in his blankets like a cocoon, hugging the pillows and muttering incoherent speeches. He lay flat on his back, his eyes half open but his face so pale that is almost matched the snow outside. Aunt Connie rudely interrupted his sleep, by opening the drapes.

"Oh, Aunt C!" He exclaimed, pulling the pillow over on top of his face. He peeped out from beneath it, and gave his aunt a glare. "Can't a chappie get a good night's rest without having his relatives poking their noses in, wondering whether you're sleeping or not?" He gave a pronounced groan, as he tried to sit up.

Aunt Connie sighed. "I came to awaken you to the glories of Christmas day, Frederick, not just to terrorize you! In fact, I would say that you slept fairly well, considering that you're entire body seems to be focused on healing your ribs."

At the mention of Christmas, Freddie seemed to perk. "May I open my mysterious presents now Aunt C?" He asked hopefully.

She nodded, and produced from behind her back two small packages, wrapped in brown paper. She watched with very little enthusiasm, as Freddie tore at the paper expectantly.

Freddie looked at the book in his right hand, and the hundred quid in his left with a skeptical eye. "Alright, Aunt C, explain these presents."

Aunt Connie pursed her lips into a small smile. "I want you to use the principals in this book on money management, to make the hundred pounds that I have given you last until this upcoming July." She watched unsurprised, as Freddie seemed to swallow his disappointment.

"I-I shall endeavor to do as you request, Aunt C. And I promise you, that I shall use this money wisely-"

"And not on the race course, nor at that wretched placed called the Pink Pussy, promise me that." She demanded, watching Frederick's face to make sure he wasn't lying.

"I will also abstain from wasting it at the Pink Pussy. I solemnly swear." Freddie promised reluctantly, holding up a hand and giving his Aunt a pleading look.

Aunt Connie smiled and murmured, "There's no use pleading, Frederick. This is for your own good."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christmas Goose and the Great Scandal of Elopement

Freddie rubbed the back of his head, and opened his eyes, bewildered. Suddenly, he found himself folded into an unbreakable embrace. He stared at the person who had grabbed him, and choked. "Niagara?!" He hissed, as the pretty little red-head crushed her lips against his cheek.

She bobbed her head energetically. "I'm sorry Freddie, but I couldn't stand it any longer!" She murmured, squeezing his shoulder. "Did you get the wedding band and veil I sent you?"

Freddie gave her a confused look. "Did you send me those things? I don't remember receiving anything like that. You did send me a love letter though, didn't you?"

His fiancée colored. "I did, and I'm not ashamed of what I wrote, either. All of its true, and nothing of what I said, should be cast off as nonsense. You know I love you." She said simply.

Freddie grinned. "Well, I bet my Aunt C confiscated those wedding articles and the telegram that probably accompanied them. She probably thinks that if I meet another girl on the street, I'll be turned to jelly on the spot. But not so this time." He reached forward and stroked Niagara's alabaster cheek.

Niagara rose from her seat on the bed, and gave a prolonged sigh. "I suppose, we should head downstairs for dinner. Your Aunt Constance told me that Christmas dinner was going to be extra special this year." She paled as Freddie shook his head. "But what's wrong?"

"Would you mind terribly, ringing for Beach. If I'm going to get down the stairs, I'll need some assistance. I have a few broken ribs you see." He explained, trying to remain cheerful.

Niagara shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Oh, you poor dear! You don't need to ring for Beach. I will help you downstairs myself." She reached forward, and coaxed him out of bed, letting him rest his weight on her.

Slowly and painfully, they made their way down the stairs and into the dining room.  
>As they entered, Galahad gave Freddie a guilty look, but instantly took over helping him to his chair, nodding to the gorgeous bride-to-be.<p>

Once Freddie was settled. The conversation became less tense. "So this is the dashing, future Mrs. Threepwood? I have never seen a lovelier creature, Freddie!" Galahad grinned. "Are many of your relatives Scotch?" He asked, running his fingers through his gingery hair.

Niagara laughed. "My father is American, but my mother came from Scotland as a little girl. But what are the plans for the wedding?" Her eyes glinted with anticipation.

Freddie shrugged, and reached up to grab at the bandages underneath his quickly donned evening dress. "I don't know. I was thinking we would get married in the Market Blandings chapel, and then hop over to Martinique or some exotic place for a honey-moon. What do you think?"

Niagara's face lit up. "Why Freddie, how romantic! And will my father move in here, or shall we go back to America?"

This question seemed to stump Freddie. He could never imagine leaving England, a place that was not only his home country, but the place where his ancestors had made their homes. "Your father shall come here." He finally replied firmly. "I am afraid that I cannot make myself leave old England. Not just yet, my sweet."

"I believe, Miss Donaldson, that my nephew has forgotten to tell you, that he means to elope with you, my dear." Aunt Constance confessed mildly. "That is the general impression, that Freddie seems to be making." She watched with fascination the look of anger that crossed the girl's face.

"Not so! Freddie has given every impression that he was going to wed me in complete style, wedding dress and all! I have complete trust in him, and his promises!" She turned to give Freddie a troubled glance. "That isn't so, is it, darling?"

Freddie gave her a guilty look. "I thought we could antelope in class." He stuttered. "But, I now realize that we should set a good date. Next week suit you?"

Niagara nodded her head energetically. "If everything's ready by then. But I'd like you to be healed up before our honeymoon!" She winked at him, and blew him a kiss across the table.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A Wedding at Blandings

Galahad poked his head out into the corridor, tugging at his dressing gown and yawning. A few days had gone by, and Freddie was in absolute ecstasy in anticipation for the day of his wedding.

Galahad smiled at Niagara, who was rushing to and fro, collecting the bits and pieces of her outfit. A veil and wedding band from Aunt Connie, etc.

But Galahad didn't have time to give her a proper good morning greeting. His reporter friend, Sebastien Faraday was already standing at the top of the stairs and greeting him warmly. "Why Gally, you old fool!" He shouted, galloping over and crashing into Freddie, who had just barely been brave enough to sally forth into the hallways, in case he bumped into Niagara, and broke an important tradition.

Galahad rushed to his nephew's assistance, dragging him out from beneath Sebastien's lanky form, and leaning him against the wall. He gave Freddie's cheek a quick tweak. "Everything oojah-come-spiff?" He asked nervously. He wasn't going to make the mistake of letting Freddie injure himself again.

Freddie opened his eyes, and gave Galahad a reassuring smile. "Yes I'm fine. Just a few bumps and bruises" He said, rubbing at the spot on his head where he had bumped it.

Sebastien raced over, her eyes the size of saucers. "Wha-what happened? I'm sorry I'm so clumsy, Gally, but who is this young fellow?" He eyed Freddie curiously, patting him on the shoulder.

Freddie took hold of the hand Mr. Faraday held out to him, and pulled himself up. "Who's your friend?" He asked Galahad, showing genuine interest.

"This is Sebastien Faraday. He's a reporter for the London Herald. He's going to photograph and write about the wedding ceremony this afternoon." Galahad squeezed Freddie's arm. Freddie had asked Oofy Prosser to be his best man, but the rat had extricated himself out of the honor, and so Freddie had turned to his uncle. The honor seemed to bring Galahad to a level of soberness he had never been in. No one had ever asked him to be best man, ever.

"Ah." Freddie coughed, and stroked the lapels of his new togs, eyeing the rose that the maid had pushed into his button hole. Then he glanced up at Niagara, who was beaming at him, dressed in a gorgeous white dress and veil. His eyes popped out of his head. "Niagara what are you doing here?! You know I'm not supposed to see you!" He gave her a confused look.

She nodded. "My father said it was alright to break with tradition, if I was to ever hear you suffering. My father thinks you're wonderful you know." She said, kissing Freddie on the cheek and drawing herself up. "Don't forget that the ceremony is in an hour!" She called as she trotted off, happily.

XXXX

An hour later, everyone was at the chapel in Market Blandings. Niagara stood under the beautiful stone arches on her father's arm, waiting to be allowed to go inside.

Galahad slumped in a corner slightly on one side of Freddie beside Pongo Twiselton, twiddling with his tie. He couldn't help noticing that Freddie looked happier than he had ever had

And then the music began to play. The lovely melody of Here Comes the Bride, played on the organ, rang in his ears, as Galahad watched Niagara advanced up the aisle, beautiful and radiant from what he could see under the veil.

The preacher gave the two a benevolent, kindly smile and began the ceremony. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Frederick Threepwood and Niagara Donaldson in matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace.

The whole room fell into a hush. No one dared to speak against this marriage and risk Aunt Constance's wrath.

"Who is it that brings this woman to this man?" The preacher asked, turning to Mr. Donaldson.

"I do." Mr. Donaldson tenderly reached for his daughter's hand, placed it in Freddie's own and stepped back.

"Frederick and Niagara, life is given to each of us as individuals, and yet we must learn to live together. Love is give to us by our family and friends. We learn to love by being loved. Learning to love and living together is one of life's greatest challenges and is the shared goal of a married life.

But a husband and wife should not confuse love of worldly measures for even if worldly success is found, only love will maintain a marriage. Mankind did not create love; love is created by God. The measure of true love is a love both freely given and freely accepted, just as God's love of us is unconditional and free.

Today truly is a glorious day the Lord hath made – as today both of you are blessed with God's greatest of all gifts – the gift of abiding love and devotion between a man and a woman. All present here today – and those here in heart – wish both of you all the joy, happiness and success and the world has to offer.

As you travel through life together, I caution you to remember that the true measure of success, the true avenue to joy and peace, is to be found within the love you hold in your hearts. I would ask that you hold the key to your heart very tightly.

Within the Bible, nothing is of more importance that love. We are told the crystalline and beautiful truth: "God is Love". We are assured that "Love covers sins". It is love, which brings you here today, the union of two hearts and two spirits. As your lives continue to interweave as one pattern, remember that it was love that brought you here today, it is love that will make this a glorious union, and it is love which will cause this union to endure. Would you please face each other and hold hands?"

Freddie turned towards Niagara stiffly, and gave her a weak smile. He wiped away the sweat that was beginning to form on his forehead and reached for her hands.

"Frederick, do you take Niagara to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only to her forevermore?" The preacher asked, eyeing Freddie with a critical look.

"I do." Freddie mumbled in reply.

"Niagara, do you take Frederick to be your Husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only to him forevermore?" The preacher asked again, turning to the bride.

Niagara gave a small smile underneath her veil, letting a few tears trickle down her cheeks. "I do." She choked out.

" Frederick and Niagara, in so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in Matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows, the giving of these rings and the joining of your hands, I now declare you to be husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Freddie's hands shook as he raised the veil from off of Niagara's face and kissed her tenderly. The sound of applause rang in his ears. Suddenly, everyone was around him, congratulating him and his wife. His uncle winked at him. For the first time in his life, Freddie found that he was truly happy. He gripped Niagara's hand hard as he raced out the chapel doors (not caring about the twinges of his ribs) with her to the steps, where people began to pelt them both with rice and flower petals.

Galahad watched the couple leave, and gave a curious smile. He chuckled. Those two should have a very interesting life together. A very interesting life.

Finis


End file.
